


To Break in a Glove

by TARDISTraveller42



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Baseball, Concussions, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, Holodecks/Holosuites, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TARDISTraveller42/pseuds/TARDISTraveller42
Summary: Picard spends some fatherly bonding time with the three members of his crew that need a father-figure the most: Will, Wesley, and Data. Can a game of catch on the Holodeck bring out the father in Jean-Luc Picard?
Relationships: Data & Jean-Luc Picard, William Riker & Jean-Luc Picard
Comments: 6
Kudos: 81





	To Break in a Glove

To Break in a Glove

Will stepped onto the Holodeck and took in a big lungful of air. Freshly cut grass, leather, gritty sand, a hint of possible rain...all of the smells of spring. Just as he remembered it, way back in time and space. On a baseball field in California. Back when he was just a cadet, and he’d finally gotten away from his miserable relationship with his dad. Outside, with his friends and baseball and no thought of the finals that were approaching faster than he dared think about.

In short, perfection.

Now, though, he was not a cadet, but a commander. And he was not in California, but in the middle of outer space. A million miles from home. And he was not accompanied by a group of loudmouth twenty year-olds, but by an android, a teenager, and a starship captain. All of whom seemed very confused and, even, a little scared.

“Commander?” Data asked, holding his glove aloft with both hands. “I followed the ritual you described, to ‘break in’ my glove. Does my glove appear to be adequately ‘broken’?”

Will looked him up and down, taking in the sight of Data out of uniform. He’d certainly dressed for the occasion; cleats, uniform, hat and all. He even appeared to be chewing what Will hoped was bubblegum. Will shook his head with a smile, focusing back on the task at hand.

“Let me see.” He looked the glove over with great care. Fit it over his hand. Squeezed it a few times for good measure. He gave Data a look, and then passed back the glove with a twinkle in his eye. “It’s perfect, Data. Well done.”

Data nodded solemnly, and then went to his place on the bench. Will watched him spit out his gum, a little dramatically, and then do some fancy tricks with one of the baseballs. Somehow, Will knew the android would have no trouble with their game.

Next to the field came Wesley. He carried a whole bat bag, fit around his shoulders, that was nearly as tall as he was. He dragged his sneakers across the sand, apparently stalling for time. Will noticed the slightly worried look on his face, as he took in Data’s garb. Wesley looked down at himself, at his white T-shirt and jeans, and faltered for a moment. When he looked up at Will, he frowned slightly.

“I didn’t know there was a uniform,” he explained.

Will waved him off.

“You’re fine. Data just likes to go big; you know that.” Will clapped him on the back as they started toward the infield and the benches. “We’re only having a catch.”

Wesley nodded. Loosened up a little as he greeted Data. Will let out a sigh of relief: maybe today would go better than he thought.

Someone touched his back: Picard. Wearing an almost panicked expression.

Uh-oh.

“What’s wrong?” Will asked with a tight voice. It could be anything: alien attack? Code red? An emergency in one of the science labs? “Captain?”

“I don’t know how you and Beverly roped me into this,” Picard muttered. 

Will let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“I don’t even know how to play baseball!” Jean-Luc kept his voice down, but he glanced pointedly at the two men on the bench enough times to make it obvious that he was talking about them. 

Will grinned, placing a hand on his captain’s shoulder.

“I think you’ll do fine. It’s just a game of catch!” 

“That’s easy for you to say,” said Jean-Luc. He sighed, looking himself over self-consciously. He beat his glove against his hand a few times. “I look ridiculous.”

“No you don’t. And, personally, I think you need this.” Will watched Data balance a bat on his hand while Wesley laughed. “And they need it, too. Trust me, I know.”

They shared a serious look for a moment. At the end of which, Jean-Luc sighed again and murmured his resignation.

“Thank you,” Will said quietly. 

Before Jean-Luc could offer another excuse to get out of it, he went to the bench and sat beside Wesley. “Where’d you get those?” he asked, of Wesley’s bat and glove.

Wesley shuffled the glove from hand to hand, a gentle smile gracing his lips.

“It was my dad’s. It was with a bunch of his old things in our quarters.”

Will nodded. He wasn’t sure if he was intruding or if this was alright; he didn’t often get a chance to spend time with Wesley when they weren’t on the bridge. “How does it fit?” he asked, deciding that was an innocent-enough question.

“It fits perfectly, actually,” Wesley said with a smile. 

Will patted his back and went back to Jean-Luc, who already looked more than a little weary of their little outing. 

“Shall we begin?” asked Jean-Luc.

Will called Data and Wesley over to the field, sliding his own glove over his hand. He grabbed a ball off of the ground and then stood to find the others standing in a perfect arc around him.

“Okay, so I’m gonna throw it to the captain, he’ll throw it to Data, and then Data, you throw it to Wesley, Wesley to me. Sound good?”

The others nodded, so Will threw the ball. Jean-Luc’s eyes widened immensely as the ball came toward him, but he managed to catch it. 

“Told you it wasn’t so bad,” called Will. 

Jean-Luc threw him daggers as he set his feet and took the ball out of his glove. Slowly, he pulled his arm back and then tossed the ball. Only he let go a little early, and the ball went higher than it did farther. It started downward about ten feet in front of where Data had been standing, but the android ran to catch it anyway. 

As Data took the ball out of his glove, he looked right at the captain. “I believe that if you release the ball later, you will-”

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Data,” Picard said through his teeth.

Data nodded and turned to Wesley, releasing the ball without a second’s delay. It soared through the air and collided with Wesley’s glove with an enormous, echoing clapping sound.

Wesley cried out as soon as it made contact, and then took his hand out to shake it out.

“Data, can you throw a little lighter?” he pleaded, gritting his teeth. 

“I am sorry, Wesley.” Data started approaching, but Wesley held out a hand.

“I’m alright.”

They got back into position. Thus, Wesley threw to Will, who caught it with ease. The first good throw of the game.

Will wondered, as he removed the ball from his glove, whether this really was a good idea.

The next round was an improvement: Picard managed to send the ball the correct distance, though his aim had Data lunging halfway across the field. Data, to his credit, softened his throw so that Wesley wasn’t wringing his hand out. And Wesley, again, made a clean throw to Will. 

“You’re a natural, Wes,” Will encouraged.

Wesley shrugged. “My mom’s tried to play with me before. It never really worked out well.”

“Beverly plays baseball?” Jean-Luc said, mostly to himself. He and Will raised eyebrows at each other. “You learn something new every day.”

“She tries to play baseball,” Wesley corrected.

Will and Jean-Luc laughed, as they continued to pass the ball around the square they had created. Data, though, was being strangely quiet.

“Have you ever played baseball before, Data?” Will asked.

Data threw the ball to Wesley, and then straightened the cap on his head. “Not as such. I have studied the theory. I was not aware that it was a game that many humans still played.”

“Not many do,” said Will. “That’s what makes it so special. It’s an old tradition.”

“I have read that in olden times, it was mostly a game fathers taught to their sons,” said Data. “Is this still true?”

The words hit Will somewhere in his chest. He shrugged in response. False nonchalance.

“Maybe. My father didn’t teach me much. He always just said I was doing it wrong.” He threw the ball a little too hard toward Picard. It went over the captain’s head, banging against the fence before it lay still in the dirt.

“I think my dad and I played catch,” Wesley said quietly. “I was really little, though, so…” he trailed off when he realized the intensity with which Picard was staring at him as he returned to his position on the field.

Okay, this little outing was getting awkward now. Will started thinking of ways to switch it up; get them away from this particular topic. But then Data said, “I wonder if my father would have taught me to play baseball and other sports. If things had been different, of course.”

They went an entire three rounds without anyone saying a word. Finally, Will couldn’t stand the uncomfortable feeling anymore. When Wesley passed him the ball, he held it in his glove.

“You guys wanna try batting?” he suggested.

Jean-Luc looked ready to kill him. But Data and Wesley went instantly to the bench to grab their batting supplies. Will followed with a grateful sigh.

“Number One,” Jean-Luc said softly. “I feel like I’m about to make an idiot of myself.”

“No way,” Will smirked. “I rigged the pitching machine, anyway.”

Picard patted his back. “Will, you’re a lifesaver.”

As the others swapped mitts for batting gloves, Will got to work on the pitching machine. First up would be Picard. That way, if it went south, they could blame it on the faulty equipment.

Will had to smile at the image of Picard as he approached the plate. He looked more nervous now, armed with his wooden bat and bright red gloves, than he ever did facing off against Klingons or Romulans. Will gave him an encouraging nod as he turned on the pitching machine and darted out of there.

The first ball went by without so much as a swing from Picard. But when the second one crossed the plate, he was ready for it. His foot slid a little too much, but the bat made good contact. The ball went soaring through the air, landing somewhere deep in right field.

“Excellent hit, captain,” Data breathed, sounding genuinely impressed. 

“Thank you, Mr. Data. It’s all in the swing.”

Will and Wesley shared a laugh as they leaned against the fence separating the bullpen from the field. To their right, Data was practicing his swing again, in time with Picard at the plate.

Another hit, this one to left field. Then another, to third base. Picard seemed like a natural. Will let him have it; let Wesley stand in idle shock as he watched his captain belt one out of the park. Nobody needed to know that the machine was on the easiest setting. 

“How’d I do?” Picard asked, when his time at bat was up.

Wesley’s jaw was on the floor. “That was incredible! Captain, I didn’t know you could hit like that.”

Picard made a casual gesture, pulling his gloves off one by one. “You just have to keep your eye on the ball, Mr. Crusher. It’ll go wherever you tell it to.”

Wesley listened with full attention. But suddenly it was his turn at bat. He licked his lips and picked up his dad’s old bat. Swung it twice, just to test it. Then went to his place at the plate.

Will set the machine on a higher setting; Wesley would figure out Picard’s trick if it was set on anything less than difficult. Once again, he turned on the machine and then ran back to the bullpen. Picard sat on the bench catching his breath, but Data was up to something else. His head tilted. And then he shouted, “Here we go Wesley, here we go!”

Will jerked at the sudden shout, but joined in as he repeated the verse. Picard rolled his eyes. But one look from Will and he was yelling alongside them as well.

When they had finished, Wesley was grinning so much he could hardly see the ball coming toward him. But he made it out enough to swing at just the right time. The ball went flying between first and second base, rolling out to the green grass beyond.

“I hit it, sir!”

The others weren’t sure who he was speaking to, but they all congratulated him nonetheless. Now that they were really started, this was starting to be a fun time.

Wesley missed the next pitch, but hit the next with even more accuracy. It went flying away, deep into the outfield. Will jostled the fence in his enthusiasm. Even Picard cheered.

Five more hits, and then an out of the park homerun. In all, Wesley only missed three, and those he could blame on the distraction from his ‘teammates’. He returned to the bench feeling victorious. Maybe they weren’t keeping score, but he felt like a winner regardless.

“What do you think? Beginner’s luck?” he asked Will.

Will ruffled his hair, as Picard patted him on the back.

“Well done, Mr. Crusher,” he said, beaming. “I believe we’ve found your true calling.”

Wesley smiled wide, but sank into the bench and devoured the water from his bottle. Picard joined him as Will went to prep the pitching machine again.

“Commander?” Data asked, standing leaned on his bat off to the side of the batting cage. “Would it be possible to turn up the speed?”

Will raised his eyebrows, but turned up the dial.

“No problem. Tell me when.”

He turned up the dial a tick higher. A ball flew out and crashed into the back of the cage. Data frowned, still standing off to the side. 

“Continue to increase the speed,” Data said.

Will turned it up higher. Then higher. Then to the max.

Data frowned. “Computer,” he ordered. “Please increase the speed of the pitching machine to a level at which I would find difficulty.”

Will sprinted off the field as one ball tore out of the machine at a speed that nearly upended it. He practically dove into the safety of the dugout before glancing back. 

Data was smiling now, standing ready at-bat.

“Data, is that safe?” he called, over the whir of the overworked pitching machine.

Data elected to ignore him, swinging at the next pitch so quickly that Will’s eyes could hardly watch. The ball flew to the outfield.

“Nice hit, Data!” Wesley cheered.

“Thank you, Wesley.”

Another ball flew to the outfield, before Will had even seen it come out of the machine. And they seemed to be coming faster, flying out to meet Data’s bat every other second. 

“Computer…” Will started.

Suddenly the machine really picked up. It sent three baseballs at once, flying toward home plate. Data managed to hit one, somehow. It rolled toward first base. Then the machine whirred louder, and faster. 

The machine groaned, its feet hardly holding it. And suddenly the feet collapsed. Just as a ball was exiting, speeding toward home plate. The motion sent the ball off-course. And before he could react, the ball pelted straight into Data’s head.

He dropped to the ground.

“Data!” All three of the other men shouted. 

Over the commotion, Will ordered the computer to power down the machine. Gratefully, it did as it was told, but not before one last pathetic whirr of the upended pitching machine sent a ball rolling dumbly toward third base.

Wesley was the first to reach Data, but he didn’t know what to do so he stood off to the side and stared at him from the safety of the fence. Luckily, Picard arrived next and had a little more sense still in him. He knelt on the hard sand beside Data and took hold of his shoulders.

Will knelt beside him, peering over his shoulder at Data. He was laid on his back, eyes a little vacant. It was obvious where the ball had hit: about an inch of bioplast on his forehead was chipped clean off, revealing gray metal and a dancing display of lights.

“Data,” Picard repeated, shaking the man’s shoulders. “Data!”

Data shook his head, only to furrow his brows in response to the movement. Slowly, his fingers prodded the injured area.

“I seem to be experiencing dizziness,” Data said slowly. His words were just a little less crisp than usual.

Will tapped his comm badge with a sigh. “Geordi? Can you meet us in Holodeck 3? Data was hit by a pitch. I think he’s got a head injury.”

“On my way, Commander.”

Wesley suddenly realized he was holding his glove and placed it under Data’s head as a support. 

“Is that more comfortable?” he asked, in a small voice that reminded Will just how young the ensign was.

Data nodded, closing his eyes. “Yes. Thank you, Wesley.”

Picard shook his shoulders again.

“Data; stay awake. At least until Geordi is here.” He licked his lips, and then seemed to think of something. “Data, can you tell me how many fingers I am holding up?”

Data stared at his hand for a long time, and then drawled out, “Captain, have you always had six fingers on your right hand?”

Picard sighed, sharing a look with Will. Across from them, Wesley looked more worried than they did; jaw set, eyes staring unblinkingly at Data’s shifting irises.

“Is he gonna be okay?” he asked quietly.

Picard smiled at the young ensign, though it made him a bit uneasy to see Data in such a state. “He’ll be fine. I’ve had my share of concussions in my time. They’re not nearly as dangerous as they used to be.”

Wesley breathed out. With that reassurance, he seemed more comfortable. He shifted closer to Data and patted his shoulder in that awkward way only teenagers can.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he repeated to Data. 

Will and Picard shared another look - this time, a proud smile. 

Behind them, the entrance to the Holodeck opened. Geordi was by Data’s side within seconds, settling next to Wesley. He ran his tricorder over Data’s head and frowned at the results.

“Data, I didn’t even know you could get a concussion,” he admonished. “It’s like you’re trying to give me more work.”

Data smiled apologetically, shifting his focus to a spot somewhere behind Geordi’s head. 

“I am sorry, Geordi.”

Geordi chuckled, letting out the nerves he had carried here. “You don’t have to apologize for getting hurt, Data. I was only joking.” He gently probed the injury with his fingers, gazing at the inner workings with his VISOR. “No permanent damage. It’ll just take a few days for your motor control to be back to normal. You should get checked out by Doctor Crusher, too. She’s good with concussions.” 

Will made the call to Doctor Crusher as Data nodded, again making his brows furrow. He shut his eyes and leaned deeper into his baseball-glove pillow, curling in on himself slightly. Geordi ran a hand up and down his back.

“Data? You alright?”

“Whenever I move my head, the world appears to spin. I also have a strange desire to enter my dream program until I am functioning normally again.”

Will stroked his beard. “You know, Data; you’re a lot more human than you give yourself credit for.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Data muttered, folding his arms and snuggling deeper into the dirt.

Geordi groaned. “Data, you can’t go to sleep yet. Doctor Crusher needs to check you out first.” He looked to the other three men for assistance. “Can you help me get him up against the fence?”

Together, the four of them managed to get him leaned against the fence. Geordi and Will held him upright against the metalwork, as Picard knelt in front and tried to keep his attention.

“Data, keep your eyes on me.”

“But captain-”

“That’s an order.” Picard hated being harsh with him, especially when he was in this state: sitting in a dirtied baseball uniform against a rickety old fence with his eyes half-glazed over. But he also didn’t want an angry doctor on his hands if they let her patient sleep before she gave the green light. 

“Yes, captain.” Data forced his eyes open, by some combination of duty and loyalty. 

Geordi, Wesley, and Will helped him through the wait with gentle pats on the shoulder for encouragement. But soon enough, they were replaced with Doctor Crusher and her medical tricorder. 

“Data, what’s your status?” she asked. She knew Data well enough not to ask the usual ‘how are you feeling’.

“I am finding it difficult to achieve motor control. And each time I move my head, I am overcome with a form of sensory overload. My vision has also been increasingly blurred.”

Beverly frowned at the results of her scanner, but seemed to come to some prognosis. She reached into the medical bag she’d brought and removed two different tools. She only paused when Wesley put a hand on her arm.

“Mom? Is he gonna be alright?”

She smiled at him. Squeezed his hand in her own. “He’s gonna be fine.”

Beverly turned back to Data with the same smile she’d given Wesley, silently bringing a hypospray up to his neck. “This’ll help with dizziness.” She pulled the trigger, though the only sign that it was administered was a slight widening of Data’s eyes. “And this will help your brain heal faster.” 

With both medications, Data seemed to come back into focus relatively quickly. Within minutes, he was able to make and keep eye contact. Satisfied with her work, Beverly moved back to give him room, tugging Wesley along with her. 

“Make sure he gets some rest,” she told the others. “I want him off-duty for at least the next two days. And Data, come see me in sickbay tomorrow for a follow-up.”

“Yes, doctor.” Data blinked rapidly, letting the fence carry more of his body weight. “Captain?” Data asked sweetly.

“Yes Data?”

Picard scooted closer, resting a hand on Data’s shoulder to let him know he was there.

‘May I rest now?”

Picard sighed to himself, glancing to Will and Geordi for assistance. When he didn’t get a definitive answer from either of them, he made the call. “Yes, Data. You can rest now.”

Almost immediately, Data shut his eyes and fell asleep, entering his dream program. His breath evened out, and he fell deep into a relaxed state, laying halfway against a ragged fence and halfway on the dirty sand of the baseball field.

Picard shook his head with a smile and tapped his comm badge. “Mr. Worf? I think we’re going to need your help transporting Data to his quarters.”

Will and Geordi stood and dusted themselves off, but Picard stayed close to his charge. Left his hand on his shoulder, even though he was deeply unconscious of it. 

“Feel better soon, son,” he said softly.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts in the comments!!


End file.
